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~ at bat these days ~ Obsidian The Body Gift (No, I won't tell you anything about it, yet. Ha!)   Some Published Works Wyoming Trucks, True Love and the Weather Channel: a Woman's Adventure Fifteen distinct essays on such diverse subjects as her father’s death, her grandmother’s dementia, her environmental work, and her experiences learning to drive a truck and shoot a rifle. Together the essays provide a portrait of a young, intelligent, articulate woman whose ultimate decision to live in a remote and sparselypopulated place has given her strengths and perspective she had not counted on.. Buy the book Inheritances In Bombshells: War Stories and Poems by Women on the Homefront 'No one voice can entirely convey the emotional toll a soldier’s military service has on loved ones. Here are 38 voices. Step into the experiences of homefront women spanning from World War II to the Iraq War—mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, fiancés and friends—who, in their own words, tap into the reservoirs of unconditional love required of everyone who has ever loved a soldier. Share their wide range of feelings from the stress of giving up a loved one to military service, to the anguish when warriors are killed in action; from the anxiety of long separations, to the upheaval that can accompany living with wounded veterans. Glimpse other nuances of the military lifestyle like searching for personal identity and viable concepts of home in the face of deployments and frequent relocations. Each piece tells a unique story, and collectively they illuminate the pathos of this unsung microcosm of American society, and manage to uplift us in a way only raw honesty can. Buy the anthology Home Recycling Appearing May 2009 in   Going Green: True Tales from Gleaners, Scavengers, and Dumpster Divers Ed. Laura Pritchett. University of Oklahoma Press The letter to the editor complained bitterly about the city council’s foolish and shortsighted decision against a new housing development. The author, new to our town, listed among his righteous points the dearth of available housing to buy, particularly since he was too smart to consider 'investing in a pre-World War II house.' As one delighted with the council’s wise and far-reaching judgment, I wondered at those who disdain old houses. The house David and I share is not only pre-WWII, like so many of the houses that form the core of our small Wyoming town, to the letter-writer's great dismay, it’s pre-WWI and rather than an albatross, our prize. Buy this book Hemlock & Mistletoe Appearing Fall 2008 Winter 2009 (I kid you not!) in Puerto del Sol For the first time in my life, I could not decorate for Christmas. It almost makes me weep to type the words, yet I could not bear to pull out one strand of lights. Once David convinced me to cancel our annual extravagant party, because I was too fragile for the additional pressure of cleaning and decorating and cooking, I had thought I might do simple things as the mood struck me. Perhaps I'd decorate our six-foot bougainvillea with some of the pearl lights our guests admired every year, perhaps add the clear glass balls I bought just a few weeks ago, with an eye towards replacing the tatty gold and red satin ones. But I couldn't do even that little. Our friends are understanding of our canceled party - even the ones to whom I'd given invitations already, then reneged. They're disappointed - "You know your party is the event of my Season," said one - but supportive. I feel like I've let my neighbors down, with our dark house and invisible trees. But all you have to tell people is that your dad - though they may know the relationship hasn't always been an easy one - is dying and they forgive you any breaches. But I have a Christmas secret I dare not speak aloud: Leo has chosen to die. He picked out the date.